


Hit Me Baby One More Time

by Elleh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A sliiiight plot as usual with me, Blow Jobs, Cuffing, Dom/sub, Future Fic, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Tie Kink, collar and leash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16203455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleh/pseuds/Elleh
Summary: What do you do with yourself when you’ve been hoarding sexual fantasies of a man you haven’t seen in almost six years? Kyoutani has a library’s worth of scenarios, sexual encounters and all sort of pornographic daydreams, and if he jerks off to the idea of Yahaba one more time, he’ll probably lose his mind.At least, before, he could invent what Yahaba looked like, after forgetting as soon as Yahaba had left for Tokyo how he looked like, —and really, Kyoutani isn’t in the mood to jerk off to his teenage stupid face,— and that, somehow, made it okay.But as soon as Kyoutani leaves his apartment on Saturday morning, ready to meet the town’s volleyball team, summer sun heating the streets and making the cicadas scream like death, what does he crashes onto?Yeah. Yahaba fucking Shigeru.Figures.





	Hit Me Baby One More Time

**Author's Note:**

> (sorry for the title, I suck at them and Britney is a queen and honestly, it's hilarious)
> 
> After three months of no writing, the rage of the rare-pair has awoken me, and here we are. On this holy month (i know it's been five days, but bear with me) I haven't found any fic for Kyouhaba and it felt like such a blasphemy I had to go and write 5K to make up for it. I got inspired by the sadist/masochist prompt of the 5th day, but it's more of a light bdsm dom/sub with a bit of spanking, some cuffs and a lot of boys pinning for each other.

What do you do with yourself when you’ve been hoarding sexual fantasies of a man you haven’t seen in almost six years? Kyoutani has a library’s worth of scenarios, sexual encounters and all sort of pornographic daydreams, and if he jerks off to the idea of Yahaba one more time, he’ll probably lose his mind.

At least, before, he could _invent_ what Yahaba looked like, after forgetting as soon as Yahaba had left for Tokyo how he looked like, —and really, Kyoutani isn’t in the mood to jerk off to his teenage stupid face,— and that, somehow, made it okay.

But as soon as Kyoutani leaves his apartment on Saturday morning, ready to meet the town’s volleyball team, summer sun heating the streets and making the cicadas scream like death, what does he crashes onto?

Yeah. Yahaba fucking Shigeru.

Figures.

Kyoutani hasn’t seen the fucker in six years, hasn’t talked to him in five, and yet he could recognize him with his eyes closed. The moment Yahaba’s shoulder hits his chest and kicks the air out of his lungs, Kyoutani is thrown into a spiral of desire, longing and fire. Dizziness fills his mind long enough for Yahaba to step away from him, frowning.

“Uh, excuse me, sir, I didn’t—”

“Learn to walk, fucking idiot,” Kyoutani groans before his mental palace of sexual fantasies explodes into a hundred screaming high schoolers, having a mental breakdown because their sexual crush is _here_ and he’s _physical_.

 _I’m gonna have a stroke_.

Yahaba stares at him, blankly. And then, “Kyoutani?! What the heck! I didn’t recognize you for a second.”

The words wouldn’t hurt so much if Kyoutani weren’t closing his fists so hard his nails are breaking skin.

He says, “Yeah, well. Some of us do _grow_.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Yahaba’s laugh is loud and full. Kyoutani knows he’s staring, but he’d be damned if he’s not drinking him whole before he vanishes again. “You look so _grown up_. What’s with the hair! And you even have earrings. Please, don’t tell me you have a tattoo too.”

Kyoutani knows this, the banter, the back and forth. He’s missed it, and shit, it’s fueling his mind in a way he has no control over, and that will probably make him regret every life choice he’s made pretty soon.

“This is my natural color, and yeah, I have a tattoo. Any problems with that?”

Yahaba’s eyes light up, and his smile falls. Kyoutani’s body vibrates with the glare he’s throwing at him, and when the silence enlarges till it swallows them both, Kyoutani isn’t sure he hasn’t fallen into a rabbit hole.

“No,” Yahaba finally whispers, sending threads of warmth through Kyoutani’s body. _Damn him, damn him_. “Not at all. Is it showable?”

Kyoutani clears his throat, suddenly dry. His systems are all over the place, and if Kyoutani had any say on it, he’d probably be all over Yahaba too.

Gods, he’s spent too much jerking off to Yahaba for him to behave like a regular human being. He’s glorified their inexistent sexual encounters to a point he’s not sure where reality ends and fantasy beings.

“Not really,” he manages to answer, husky and breathless. He needs to go now. “I’m late, so. See you around, I guess.”

“You guess right. There’s the reunion tonight.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that.” And he had. Work has been taking over all of Kyoutani’s time, and he’s been meeting with enough of Seijo’s ex-players to forget there were some of them still spread through the country. “I don’t know if I’ll make it, though, so.”

“What?” Yahaba frowns, steps closer, and Kyoutani’s breath loses its rhythm. “Why not?”

“Work.”

Yahaba has the word _bullshit_ right there on his lips, Kyoutani can almost hear it, when his phone rings.

“Saved by the bell.”

Kyoutani ignores Yahaba’s comment and picks up, and in a daze, speaks without understanding his own words while he watches Yahaba walking away, again.

  


Kyoutani _doesn’t_ make it to the reunion. In fact, he closes his practice right when the clock ticks ten, and he’s so worn out the mere thought of walking down to the izakaya is too much to handle.

His feet take him to his place in thoughtless routine, through empty streets he knows by heart, the weight in his shoulders pushing him to the ground, slowing him down. Seeing Yahaba one more time before he leaves for Tokyo on the next train would’ve been nice, and Kyoutani mourns the loss of all the fantasies it would have fed as he opens the door of his place and enters.

He has just washed his hands and face waiting for the water to run warm, shirt on the floor and pants undone when someone knocks on the door.

Thrill fills him, even when work still clings at his sides with sharp nails.

Another knock. Kyoutani’s heart misses a beat.

“Who’s it?”

A second of silence. And then, “Me. Let me in.”

Kyoutani’s forehead falls on the door. He inhales, trying to catch Yahaba’s scent and failing. “It’s late and I don’t want you in my house.”

“Too bad ‘cause here I am. Open the door.”

Kyoutani wants to say yes. The day is weighing on him, drowning him. It’d be too easy to let Yahaba in, open the door of his house and maybe of something else, and if tomorrow came too fast, they could pretend nothing had happened and keep with their lives as they were.

“I can’t,” he mutters, because he wants it too much.

“What?”

“I said no.”

Yahaba huffs, loud enough for Kyoutani to hear. Before Kyoutani can say something else, —something mean or hurtful or just plain stupid—, his door shakes, creaks and then slides open, right in Kyoutani’s face.

Yahaba’s pissed, and beautiful. Kyoutani hadn’t had the mental capacity to process the little changes of adulthood in Yahaba when they met early today, but at the soft light of his porch, he looks as grown up as he looks young. There are new lines around his eyes, a strength to his jaw. They are the same age, and yet, Kyoutani can see the experiences of living in a big city engraved in Yahaba’s skin.

“That’s fucking rude and uncalled for,” Kyoutani manages, because he’s mad himself at Yahaba’s never-changing and over-controlling personality. “This is my house, I’m tired and I’d like you to go fuck off.”

“No. And fuck you and your _you’re rude_ when you are the rudest fucker I know.”

“We haven’t seen each other in years. You don’t know me.”

Yahaba’s nose is next to his, his lips a caress on his skin when he says, “If you’d been there tonight, maybe that wouldn’t be true.”

Oh, well. Now Kyoutani _is_ pissed. “Of course. You’re right. A _single_ meeting would have made all the difference between not talking in five years and not talking during the next ten.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Yahaba’s still to close, but Kyoutani can’t make himself step away from him and his stupid smell. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t, really. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. You’ll leave soon, I’ll stay here. Yada yada yada. Go home, Yahaba.”

“I can’t.” That catches Kyoutani’s attention, and he does back away this time. Yahaba looks tired, his eyes gleam in secrets, and he looks way too hot in a black tight shirt and leather cuffs on his wrists.

“Meaning?”

Kyoutani can’t tear his eyes from those stupid wrists.

“Look, can I come in? I really would like to have a conversation. You know what those are? Adults speaking in a fucking private room?”

“Charming as ever.” Kyoutani crosses his arms, pushing his attention up Yahaba’s body, finally noticing the bag. “What’s that for?”

He’s not ready for Yahaba’s reaction to his question. Kyoutani can count with a hand the times he’s seen Yahaba blush, and each one had the same effect on him as it’s having now. _Fuck_.

“That’s one of the things I’d like to talk about. Please, can I come in?”

A second ticks. And then another, and another, and finally Kyoutani steps to the side and Yahaba exhales such a relieved breath Kyoutani can’t but feel like a jackass.

The water’s still running when Kyoutani closes the front door and lets silence fill the space between them. Gesturing awkwardly, he manages to tell Yahaba where the living room is while letting him know he was about to shower right when Yahaba knocked.

“Oh. Sorry. Please, just go do your things. I can wait.”

“I think the hell not.”

Kyoutani naked, with Yahaba in his house. There are worst ways to die, but still Kyoutani would like to live a little bit longer, thank you very much.

He stops the water and takes a look at the mirror. The Kyoutani that looks back at him has more similarities with a deer about to get hit than a man with a grip on his own life, but there’s little he can do about it. Yahaba’s waiting, and the sooner he can get rid of him, the sooner Kyoutani will be able to go back to his over-worked, seuxally frustrated self.

“Want something to drink?”

Yahaba has made himself at home, sitting cross-legged on the floor and looking through Kyoutani’s books. He looks up at him, and there goes the blush again.

“Aren’t you gonna wear a shirt?”

“No. It’s hot and I’m filthy. I’m not changing till I shower.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Yahaba’s eyes draw every line of Kyoutani’s chest, and if he grabs the book with a bit more strength than necessary, that’s probably Kyoutani’s imagination and nothing else.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Want something to drink or not?”

“No. No, I’m not—” Yahaba clears his throat and finally tears his eyes away. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Well, what did you wanna talk about, then? I really am tired. If we can make it short…”

Yahaba looks at Kyoutani, and then at his bag, and then at Kyoutani again. As if collecting his thoughts, he leaves the book back on the table, shifts positions and looks at the bag once more.

It’s starting to look worse by the second, and if Kyoutani’s nerves flinch one more time, he’s going to explode.

“Just tal—”

“Have you ever wanted me?”

A high pitched sound fills the room, Kyoutani’s brain and every particle between him and Yahaba. He blinks, trying to understand, and then blinks again, and there it is, Yahaba’s face flushed and his eyes, so determined something inside Kyoutani finally gives.

“What?”

“Do you want me, Kyoutani?”

“Are you asking me if—”

Kyoutani sits —falls on his ass, really—, and stares at Yahaba with eyes he knows are as big as windows. He tries to remember every time he’s had his cock in his hand and Yahaba’s name in his lips, tries to picture every scenario and every way Yahaba could have _figured it out_ , known, spied on him. Kyoutani’s life passes before his eyes, and he’s ashamed by how much of it has been spent jerking off to Yahaba’s image.

“What are you asking me?”

Yahaba’s on his knees now. Judging by how his thighs tense, Kyoutani knows he’s fighting the urge to crawl to him, and yet he stays put, watching Kyoutani as if a wrong word would scare him away.

It will, and Kyoutani can’t baer the thought Yahaba knows him well enough to _know_ that.

“Let me put it this way. I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen and I jerked off to the thought of you, naked and at my mercy. Does that clarify?”

“Fuck, no. It clarifies shit. What the fuck, Yahaba. You can’t just—”

But he can, and he just did. Kyoutani’s pulse is breaking all human standards by now, and his eyes can’t leave Yahaba’s, and he can’t believe this is happening, and holy shit, holy shit, he wants—

“What do you want from me?”

“That’s… a tricky question.” Yahaba’s eyes go to the bag again. “But before I answer, I need to know, Kyoutani. Do you want me too?”

What a stupid question, and what a way to ask. Kyoutani has no way to keep his dignity if he decides to reach for what he’s been dreaming of for years, and dignity when Yahaba’s concerned has always been of utmost importance to him.

It doesn’t matter if Yahaba wants him too. Kyoutani can’t risk himself saying anything but no.

He opens his mouth to tell him as much and instead says, “Yes.”

Shit. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that, but Yahaba’s watching him _that_ way, and Kyoutani is so exhilarated that’s not a part of his fantasy too the truth has come out unbidden.

There’s a long prolonged moment of mutual staring and silence, and then Yahaba finally gives in and crawls to where Kyoutani still sits, numb and vibrating, confused as fuck. Yahaba looks like a kid rained with thousands of presents when he makes it to Kyoutani, his hands twitching over Kyoutani’s legs.

He says, “Can I… I still need to explain it, but god, can I…?”

“Can you what? Fucking speak like a normal person.”

“Can I kiss you?”

And it’s so soft, and it’s so nice, and he’s _asking_ , so Kyoutani, like a dumb doll, nods a single time and opens his legs more, making room for Yahaba’s body. His hands are like nibs on his shoulders, catching Kyoutani off guard. And then Yahaba’s mouth is on his, and if his verbal question had melted something in Kyoutani, the kiss seeking permission to enter undoes him completely.

It’s not chaste, and Yahaba kisses as if his mouth were a conqueror and his tongue his army. Kyoutani likes being conquered, it seems, because he opens his mouth and moans in Yahaba’s. He kisses him back, but Yahaba having control of the kiss elevates it to its maximum potential. Kyoutani’s hands find their way to Yahaba’s waist, down to his hips, to the round shape of his ass, and then Yahaba’s legs part, and he straddles Kyoutani as if he’d been waiting a lifetime to do just that.

They are chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Kyoutani can feel Yahaba’s cock through his pants, he’s sure Yahaba can feel his as well. They rock against each other, and then Yahaba sucks on Kyoutani’s tongue, and ends the kiss.

The world spins. Kyoutani’s not sure how has he made it this far in life believing his fantasies were enough now that he’s had the real thing.

He doesn’t know how is he gonna make it, now that he’s tasted what it really is like.

Yahaba says, “I need to explain.”

And then he kisses Kyoutani again, destroying any coherent thought and any breath he might have had left.

He leans back, Kyoutani’s lips swollen. “Really, I need to explain. I’m fucking you tonight, and I need to explain.”

“Okay,” Kyoutani says, because really, he’s not sure he could do anything else beyond agreeing with Yahaba.

“I need my bag.” Kyoutani’s hands squeeze his ass. “I don’t wanna stand to get it.”

“Then don’t.”

It’s Kyoutani who kisses Yahaba this time. Something shifts in the kiss. Kyoutani can feel Yahaba wanting control, and yet, he gives the reins to Kyoutani without a second thought. It’s contextless and Kyoutani can’t properly understand, but somehow, deep down, a part of him knows what an important gesture that is.

Lips kissing shallowly, Kyoutani musters, “Explain now. Dunno what the fuck this is, but the sooner you talk, the sooner we fuck.”

“As blunt as always.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Kyoutani says, thoughtless. It shouldn't matter, and it doesn’t. This is sex. Maybe scratching the itch one time will make the pain worse, but Kyoutani can live out of the memory of the relief. “We don’t have that much time.”

Yahaba looks at him, stare blank for a second.

“You’re right.”

It’s cold when Yahaba leaves his lap and goes to his bag. He’s not watching Kyoutani, and by the time he opens the zipper and starts going through his things, Kyoutani regrets the way he’s said it.

“Do you know what bdsm is?”

Something cold runs down Kyoutani’s back, followed by a wave of heat he’s not prepared to process. He nods, because his voice has dried out, and hopes Yahaba will get the memo and keep talking.

“Do you know what this is?”

He has cuffs, and whips, and leather stringy-things. There’s a lot of black, a bit of silver, and a ton of warmth waving over Kyoutani every time he looks at another of Yahaba’s gadgets.

“You go around carrying all that, _all the time_?”

Yahaba snorts. “Not really, no. I just— I felt I’d need it this time.” Kyoutani’s expression must have given him away, for Yahaba says, “I wanted to need it this time, I guess.”

“You spanking me?”

The way Yahaba’s eyes light at the question. Kyoutani’s not entirely sure he wants that, but at the sight, he has to bite his tongue not to scream, _please do!_

“Would you like that? I’m… I like to spank my subs, and whip them. I just… Have you ever—?”

“Hell, no. I’m not…” he’s not, what? Really into kinky sex? _Joke’s on you, Kyoutani, ‘cause you haven’t had sex in years._ “I’ve never tried it, no.”

“Does it— do you feel anything? At the thought of me spanking you?”

Yes, and one hundred times yes. “Maybe.”

Yahaba’s smile is so bright Kyoutani has to blink away tears. “Good. Okay. What about being cuffed?”

An image of Kyoutani, cuffed to his wall, blindfolded and gagged, spread on his floor, naked and cold, with Yahaba on top of him wearing some of the leather stuff he’s now touching, fills Kyoutani like a wave fills a sand hole. His whole body tenses, and heats, and it must be a hell of a reaction because Yahaba’s eyes drink him whole, and with a husky voice, he says, “I see you like that.”

“With a blindfold. And a gag.”

Yahaba’s eyes widen at Kyoutani’s rushed words. His hands find the pieces in his bag, and he takes them out, and leaves them there on the floor. Kyoutani can’t but whimper at them.

“Oh, Kyoutani. How much will I enjoy you.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.”

Yahaba looks ready to devour him, and Kyoutani wants to be devoured in a way that scares him. Still, Yahaba stays right next to his bag, and Kyoutani can’t find the words to ask him anything of the things he’s yearning for.

“Do you understand how a dom/sub relationship works, Kyoutani?”

“You say, I do?” Kyoutani’s not entirely sure he knows how to do that, or if he’ll enjoy it. Hell, he’d hated every order Yahaba had thrown at him during high school, but it feels different here, deeper, safer. Kyoutani wants to bare his throat and let Yahaba bit down on him, gag and blindfold and all.

“Yes. But I won’t do anything you don’t want, and the second I ask something or do something you don’t like, you tell me and I’ll stop. I will always stop when you want me to, okay?”

Kyoutani nods. “Okay.” But not even with the verbal agreement does Yahaba look like he believes him. “I understand, and I want this, okay? The idea of it, at least.” Kyoutani opens his mouth as if tempted to order Yahaba to get his head out of his ass and start with the fucking, but something stops him.

Dom. Sub.

Kyoutani shouldn’t be giving orders. Somehow, he doesn’t want to.

He waits for Yahaba to make up his mind, to see the truth behind Kyoutani’s words, and finally he takes the three things he’ll need, —the cuffs, the gag and the blindfold,— and crawls to the opposite side of the room.

Kyoutani vibrates with tension.

“Come here. On your knees.” Kyoutani doesn’t even think of disobeying. He goes to his knees and makes it to Yahaba, where he stays on his four till he’s told otherwise. “Undress now. Slowly.”

Since he hasn’t been told to stand, Kyoutani does so on the floor, wiggling his way out of his pants and then out of his underwear. He’s so hard his cock spreads free and hits his navel. Yahaba’s eyes are glued to it when he speaks next.

“You have to decide on a safe word.”

“A what?”

“A word in case you want me to stop.”

Kyoutani looks at the whip, still beside the bag and discarded for tonight, and swallows his fear and a bit of his expectations.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Kyoutani thinks for a second. “Everything that comes to mind is dumb.”

“Doesn’t matter, as long as it works for you.”

“Then… spinach?”

Yahaba doesn’t laugh, but his lips tight and Kyoutani can almost see the smile. He has to hold the urge to lean forward and chase it with his lips.

“Spinach it is, then. Now,” Kyoutani breathes in, taking the change in Yahaba’s tone. “I want to spank you, so I need you to go on your fours and not move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll spank you four times. And then I’ll ask you how it feels, and you will answer me honestly.”

Kyoutani does as told. He goes to his knees and hands, licking his lips. He can see his cock from here, still hard as a rock. A shiver runs down his spine when Yahaba moves closer, his presence a caress to his back.

“You look amazing like this.” Spank on his left asscheek. “And your skin. The way it colors.” A spank on his right. A kiss on his left, and another spank, right on top of it. Kyoutani’s spine is iron, and his nerves are on fire, and he’s waiting for the fourth hit with such fever he moans out loud when Yahaba kisses his right asscheek and nothing else. “Oh, Kyoutani. You are perfect.”

The fourth hit is the strongest, and it creates a direct path to Kyoutani’s cock. With all his will power, Kyoutani manages to stay still, but he’s trembling uncontrollably, pleas stuck on his lips.

“How was it?”

“It was… I… Yes.”

“Yes, you want me to continue?”

“Please.”

Yahaba is methodic in his spanking, always letting Kyoutani know how many, always asking afterwards. The shock between Yahaba’s hand, harder each time, and the softness of his lips has Kyoutani lost in a mist of pain and pleasure he hasn’t ever thought possible. His ass is on fire, and it hurts, and it’s so good he won’t be able to stay still for much longer.

The way his muscles flex must give it away, for Yahaba kisses the burn away four times before drawing a wet path up Kyoutani’s sweaty back.

“I’m going to tie you up now. Sit and put your hands in front of you.”

Sitting hurts but Kyoutani doesn’t complain. He feels empty of words. Thoughtless, he puts his hands in front of him, next to his cock, that’s leaking as if it didn’t know how to do anything else. His body’s on fire, and when Yahaba comes back, naked except for his underwear and holding the cuffs, Kyoutani moans loud enough to wake up the neighbors.

Yahaba’s smile is sly and cocky. “Like what you see?”

“As if.”

Kyoutani’s rudeness is compensated with a kiss and leather caging his wrists. When Yahaba sits back there’s a deepness in his gaze, and Kyoutani wants to lean his head back and let Yahaba take ownership of his body.

“You’d look amazing with a leather collar to match those cuffs.”

Kyoutani rocks his hips at the sound of that, bouncing his cock. Yahaba drinks every movement of Kyoutani’s body, the muscles under his skin, his balls about to burst. Kyoutani has never wanted anything so bad in his life as to be tied up and at Yahaba’s mercy.

“I want to put a collar on you. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

Yahaba is efficient and fast. He has the collar out of the bag and around Kyoutani’s neck in less than a minute. Kyoutani’s breathing fast and hard, the pressure of the collar constricting and yet freeing at the hands of Yahaba’s expertise.

“It fits you.”

Kyoutani wants to say, _no,_ you _fit me; this wouldn’t work with anyone else_ , but he’s pressured into silence by the wave of desire that ignites at Yahaba’s expression.

“I’m gonna tie the cuffs to the wall, and then we will see if you want anything else, okay?”

Kyoutani is pliant under Yahaba’s orders, and he loves every single one of them. He’s laying on his back, butt naked and cock standing to full attention, and yet it’s hard to recall a better moment than this. If Kyoutani had been told before tonight he’d feel the safest being tied up and at Yahaba’s mercy, he’d have kicked some ass and then come back home and jerk off to the thought of it.

Maybe this is not such a surprise, after all.

“You like it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to gag you?”

Kyoutani thinks about it. His cock is enthusiastic about the idea, and Kyoutani’s mind too. But. This will probably be a one-time thing, and having his mouth unavailable for Yahaba’s isn’t as exciting as being gagged.

“No.”

“Blindfold?”

And miss the way Yahaba comes undone over him?

Shit, he knew this would come back to bite him, but having a ton of sexual toys he wants to try and not having the opportunity or the partner wasn’t the way he expected the experience to go.

“No.”

Yahaba studies him. He’s standing above Kyoutani, feet brushing Kyoutani’s sides. From here Kyoutani can see the bulge in his underwear, the wet spot where his cock is leaking on the fabric. Kyoutani wants to see Yahaba naked, and wants him inside him, and he won’t say, because that’s not how one plays the game.

“I want to fuck you so bad I don’t even know what to do with myself,” Yahaba says for him, wording his thoughts. Kyoutani groans, and buckles his hips, and groans again when Yahaba finally takes his underwear off. “Do you want me, Kyoutani?”

“You know I do.”

“Tell me anyway.”

And it’s an order, one Kyoutani’s more than happy to oblige. “I want you to fuck my brains out.”

“Wish granted.”

Yahaba goes to his knees, right on top of Kyoutani’s chest. His cock is right there, a breath from Kyoutani’s lips. Their eyes lock, and then Yahaba pulls from the leash connected to the collar, and Kyoutani’s mouth meets his cock.

They both groan. Kyoutani stays still, letting the wet tip of Yahaba’s cock shape his lips till he’s told otherwise.

There’s such pride in Yahaba’s gaze at that Kyoutani could come just from the sight of it. “Good. Now suck it. Just the tip.” Kyoutani does, slowly, relishing Yahaba’s sour taste, the shape of his cock. Yahaba lets out a shaky breath, and says, “Suck it all. To the root. I want you to choke on me.”

Kyoutani does just that. The position is uncomfortable and his neck hurts, and when he manages to swallow Yahaba till he gags he can’t fathom a bigger pleasure. Without his hands Kyoutani’s left to be imaginative with his mouth, and he draws the length of Yahaba’s shaft with his tongue and his paladar, adding a bit of teeth just to make it exciting. He sucks, hollowing his cheeks, and as soon as Yahaba’s moaning on him he takes him down his throat again, and it’s gorgeous.

Yahaba is gorgeous. His sinuous body, how he pulls from the leash with intent but care, how his eyes look down at Kyoutani and there’s a fire of pleasure but a world of absolute joy in them. It feels too easy to become addicted to this, and Kyoutani’s not sure he isn’t already by the time Yahaba takes his cock out of his mouth.

“You are a fucking wonder.”

Kyoutani’s panting when Yahaba crawls down his body, licking here and there, teasing his cock with ghost strokes of his tongue. Kyoutani’s chest is on fire, his muscles tight and ready.

He says, “Yahaba, I—”

And Yahaba says, “I know. God, I’m so happy this is happening. I’ve been dreaming about this for years.”

And Kyoutani’s words are kicked out of him, and then Yahaba has a bottle of lube and a condom on, and he’s fingering Kyoutani while pulling from the leash and whispering, “You are so tight, you feel so good, I can’t wait to be inside of you. Open your legs. Let my fingers in. Don’t come, Kyoutani, don’t come.”

Kyoutani doesn’t, but only because Yahaba has commanded him not to. The way his fingers stretch his ass and hit right over and over would have had Kyoutani over the edge hours ago, what with the spanking still making his asscheks oversensitive, and the taste of Yahaba’s cock still lingering in his mouth.

“Yahaba, Yahaba, please, please, I can’t— I won’t— I can’t do this anymore. Please.”

“You want me, Kyoutani?”

“Fuck yes, you know I fucking do, _shit_.” Yahaba leans forward while his fingers stroke and stroke inside bringing him to madness. “ _Yahaba_.”

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined you moaning my name while I fucked you.”

But Kyoutani can. And before he can stop himself, he shortens the distance between them and kisses Yahaba. Their mouths open and the kiss is sloppy and wet, but it makes Yahaba cross to the side of _I need to fuck you now or I’ll die_.

Kyoutani couldn’t be happier about that.

Yahaba grabs his hips and pulls him as far from the wall as his tied wrists would allow. Kyoutani’s back arches, what with his cuffs and the collar somehow being pulled still, and the way Yahaba’s cock is now stroking against the hollow of his ass, spreading the lube everywhere.

“Look at me, Kyoutani.”

As soon as Kyoutani does, Yahaba’s cock pushes in him, stretching him open. It hurts and it’s so good, and air can barely make it through his throat, and his arms are on fire. Kyoutani opens his mouth and tries to scream, but the pleasure is such he can only breathe.

With a final thrust, Yahaba’s deeply buried inside of him, and Kyoutani has never felt fuller. A second passes. Yahaba’s hands move to his asscheeks, open him even more, awakening the already over-sensitive skin there. Kyoutani moans. His eyes are so teary he can’t see.

“Are you okay?”

“ _Fuck me_.”

“My pleasure.”

No. Really, it’s Kyoutani’s pleasure.

Yahaba fucks him like a man with a purpose, which is obviously deep in Kyoutani’s ass. He knows exactly how to touch Kyoutani’s skin, when to pull from the collar right when Kyoutani’s about to take a breath or scream in absolute pleasure. The way he grabs Kyoutani’s body to take him away from the wall, overloading his senses. Yahaba’s so aware of every piece of Kyoutani’s body that, by the time he grips Kyoutani’s cock for the first time, it’s an overflowing of sensations.

“Yahaba, _Yahaba, shit_.”

“You can come now. Come, Kyoutani, come for me.”

The way Kyoutani comes for Yahaba should shame him for its intensity, but he’s too worried trying to breathe and not pass out and keep coming till the next morning to care about that. Yahaba drills into him, speeding up while Kyoutani’s still surfing his orgasm. When Yahaba comes too Kyoutani’s still falling and falling, his cock spurting everywhere on his chest and Yahaba’s chest and the floor and the collar and even the cuffs.

“Kyoutani, fuck.”

Yahaba spasms, and thrusts one last time, and then he falls on top of Kyoutani’s chest and his still warm spunk.

Kyoutani whimpers, oversensitive, and he moves trying to chase Yahaba’s smell. His hair brushes his chin, and Kyoutani couldn’t be more content. Yahaba feels like a dead weight. Kyoutani should complain, but there are no words left.

“Sorry. I’m gonna uncuff you.”

Yahaba sits, eyes dark and spent. He undoes Kyoutani’s cuffs first, then his collar. He’s gone to the bathroom and back by the time Kyoutani manages to sit, and he lets Yahaba wash him without a word.

“Are you okay?”

Kyoutani nods.

Yahaba doesn’t look at him, though. He looks down at what he’s cleaning with shyness or shame, and Kyoutani’s stomach feels with the worst of feelings.

“Are you?”

At that Yahaba stares up. “Oh. I _am_. You don’t know the gift you’ve just given me.”

Kyoutani shrugs. “I know, I think. The one you’ve given me is pretty amazing, so.”

Yahaba looks at him, hope and despair mixing on his expression. “This wasn’t too much?”

“Oh, it was too much. In a good way.”

Yahaba’s smile is sad when he sits down next to him. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Kyoutani groans. No point in answering a stupid statement.

“This— I didn’t—”

“I get it. This was scratching an itch. Once done, forever gone.”

Yahaba stares at him, intense and hurt and so open in his bullshit as always. “Has it? For you?”

Kyoutani looks at the gag and the blindfold and at Yahaba, and he answers with a growl, “No. But that changes nothing.”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

They stay in silence for a little bit longer, naked and sweaty. Kyoutani can’t stop staring at Yahaba, at his methodic fingers putting all his toys back into the bag. It’s not entirely awkward, but it feels charged. Kyoutani wants to grab Yahaba, push him into his bed and hug him till morning.

“I guess I should—”

“Stay the night.”

Yahaba’s eyes are huge when he looks up at Kyoutani.

“You want me to…”

“We can shower. Then sleep. Then you leave and that’s that.”

A world of wonder, yearning and hope fills Yahaba’s gaze. A bit of mischief, too, for he says, sharp as only he can be, “Is there anything happening in the shower and the bed I should know about?”

“Fuck off. I already told you I’m tired. I just thought—”

“Thank you,” Yahaba cuts him, right when Kyoutani’s about to take back his offer. “I’d like that.”

 

Kyoutani does suck Yahaba on the shower, and Yahaba might give back the favor once they make it to the bed, but really, when sleep finally takes them out, what Kyoutani can’t take out of his mind is how safe he feels in Yahaba’s arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)
> 
> YOU THOUGHT THERE WEREN'T GONNA BE FEELS AND YOU WERE WRONG. I always do this to myself. Now I have all this headcanons about them and a future all made up and if I were a better writer I could bring you a multi-chap with proper angst and proper constant porn, but I'm not a better writer. 
> 
> I will try, however, to keep writing about them because Kyouhaba deserves all the love.
> 
> As always, you can find me [here](https://negare-boshi.tumblr.com/)


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